


The Leatherheads

by OK7



Category: Emergency!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5737948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OK7/pseuds/OK7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy and Johnny enter the Old Engine in the CSFA parade. Johnny insists that they need costumes too. “How hard can it be, Roy? I’ve seen people sew before. You get some cloth, you stick it in the machine, press a pedal, and voila - costumes.”  This fic takes place just before and during the Emergency! episode “The Parade.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Annoucement

Johnny was a few minutes early. He poured himself a cup of coffee and wandered over to the bulletin board, looking to kill a few minutes before the start of the shift. A large grin spread across his face when he saw the new flier announcing the upcoming California State Firefighters’ Association convention. After setting the _Shadowleaf_ mug on the kitchen table with a loud **_THUD_** , he began racing for the door. Little did he know that C Shift had created a few unintentional booby traps due to the overzealous use of waxy aerosol furniture polish. Liberally spraying a waxy cleaning product vaguely in the general direction of furniture was not really polishing anything. It just created a surface similar to an ice rink in the surrounding area. Johnny hit a slick patch and went sliding, at first doing a good job of keeping himself on his feet, arms flailing. Then he hit another patch, _black wax_ if you will, invisible to the naked eye. _KWACK!_ Down went Johnny Gage, right on his tail bone.

Johnny continued on to the locker room, moving a little more slowly, where he found Roy changing into his uniform. Without explanation, he grabbed Roy by the elbow, and forcefully led him back to the lounge.

“Jeez, Johnny! Let a guy zip up his pants before you start dragging him out into public! And why are you walking like that?”

“My ass had an unfortunate meeting with the floor. Watch yourself. C Shift went all out with the wax again. I’m sure I have Captain Hookrader to thank.”

When they arrived at the bulletin board, Johnny pointed to the flier. Roy shrugged, “Yeah, the convention is coming to L.A. next month. You knew that.”

Johnny pointed again, “Look at the schedule of events, though. Look! A PARADE, Roy! A parade with an antique car division!”

Johnny often seemed to think that Roy was a mind reader, but this was one of the rare times that Roy actually understood what Johnny was getting at. They had spent nearly 200 hours restoring their Old Engine, a 1932 Dennis purchased almost a year and a half ago at a junk yard for $80. The parade would be the perfect opportunity to show off all their hard work to their colleagues, friends and families.

They turned to each other and smiled. “It’s only a few weeks away,” said Roy, “but I think we can have her ready.”

“We’ll spend all our days off workin’ on her,” added Johnny. “The body’s looking great. It’s just the engine and transmission that need a little work.”

“Oh, is that all?” asked Roy sarcastically.

Roy wasn’t sure about spending ALL his days off working on the engine. Joanne might have something to say about that, but he smacked Johnny on the shoulder, smiled, and said, “Let’s do it!” He’d find some way to make Johnny understand the importance of balancing work and family life. When that went completely over his head, he’d just have to make Joanne understand the importance of balancing Johnny’s big ideas while attempting to curtail bouts of poutiness.

There was a $5 entry fee for parade entries that would be used to purchase trophies and furnish small cash prizes for the winners. Johnny immediately began grabbing at Roy’s pocket, looking for his wallet. Roy smacked his hand away, attempting to maintain some bit of personal space, got out his wallet himself, and gave Johnny $3.00. Johnny handed him back 50 cents change, they shook hands, and the deal was sealed. Johnny would file their entry form and pay the fee, and with just a little more work and in twenty-five days they would be waving at cheering crowds and collecting their prize.


	2. Voilà! --Costumes

 

About a week after registering the Old Engine for the parade, Johnny announced that they had a problem. A big problem that would potentially bring them great embarrassment and disgrace. Johnny had worked an extra shift with Dwyer, who gave him some very annoying news. Dwyer had pulled an extra shift over at 16s the week before, where he learned that the guys at 16s were planning on pulling a 1880s hose cart in the parade. Dwyer had been partnered with Craig Brice that day and all Brice could talk about were the costumes he was designing. Yes, 16s would have elaborate costumes and Craig Brice had been researching each and every detail, down to the historical accuracy of the buttons. “So what kind of costumes are you and Roy going to wear?” Dwyer asked Johnny.

When Johnny saw Roy at the beginning of their next shift he threw up his arms in disgust. “Well, we might as well just quit!”

Roy knew that Johnny tended to be overly dramatic about things, so he could have been set off by any number of things, from an empty milk carton to Captain Hook being permanently assigned to A Shift. Johnny relayed the news about 16s, and slumped down on the locker room bench. “Can you believe it Roy? We’ve been working on this engine for a year and half and now Brice is going to swoop in with his old timey costumes and take our prize!”

“Well, you know, Johnny, the focus of the parade is the apparatuses, not costumes. It’s not like costumes are a requirement.”

“How can you say that, Roy?” he scoffed. “We’re gonna look like idiots without costumes! I don’t think I can take that smug look on Brice’s face when he realizes he’s out played us.”

Roy continued changing into his uniform and preparing for the shift, while Johnny sat slumped on the bench sulking. Then, his mood suddenly shifted. “Roy?” he asked, raising his right eyebrow. “Why can’t we make costumes too? We have a few weeks. We could do it, couldn’t we?”

Roy began to squirm. “I. . I don’t know, Johnny. How are we going to make costumes?”

“Well, maybe someone could help us. How about Joanne? She can sew, can’t she?”

“Oh, no!” Roy quickly responded. “We are not asking Joanne to make us costumes. The kids have been swappin’ colds and stomach bugs, and Joanne’s mother is coming for a visit in three weeks. Joanne is already in a frenzy cleaning and organizing everything in the entire house. No, Johnny, if you want costumes, YOU are going to have to find another way.”

Johnny began to pout, but Roy stuck to his guns. “I mean it, Johnny, costumes are your deal. If you want them, you’re gonna have to come up with them. We still have to finish the engine, you know.”

“How hard can it be, Roy? I’ve seen people sew before. You get some cloth, you stick it in the machine, press a pedal, and voilà \- costumes.” Johnny snapped his fingers as if it were that simple.

Roy knew this was the beginning of an extraordinarily bad idea. He knew that smile and the dreamy far-away look in Johnny’s eyes. There was no turning back. He was a goner. Roy sighed and rolled his eyes.


	3. The Hose Cart Before the Horse

Johnny started his day by going where few 1970s firemen had gone before: a fabric shop. He didn’t know the first thing about fabric or sewing, but not one to be shy, he decided to just walk right up to the counter and tell them what he needed. The sales girl was both surprised and happy to see the attractive, lanky man approaching. “Good morning, can I help you?” she asked.

Johnny ran his fingers through his uncombed hair, and flashed a smile. “Good morning, I need to buy some cloth to make some old fashioned firemen’s shirts. You see, my partner and I have been restoring a 1932 engine.” He paused and confidently boasted, hoping to impress the sales girl, “We’re gonna be in a parade.”

When he didn’t get any sort of reaction, he smiled again, held up two fingers, and added “I’ll need supplies for two shirts, thanks.”

He just stood there smiling, expecting the sales girl to scurry off and return with a paper sack filled with fabric and all the notions. When he realized she didn’t scurry and was looking a bit confused, he thought he probably hadn’t given her enough information. “Oh,” he added. “I guess navy blue would be nice, thanks.”

“Well, Sir,” she said stammering slightly. “Let’s see. . . What kind of fabric do you need?”

“Blue,” he repeated, thinking she must not have heard.

“No, Sir. I mean . . . I’m afraid I don’t know much about fireman’s uniforms. Do you need wool or cotton? Do you need a twill or plain weave? Maybe a flannel?”

Johnny shrugged, “Well, I really don’t know.” He had a vague idea of what an old fashioned fireman’s uniform would look like. He remembered they had lots of buttons on the front, but he’d never really thought that much about them. He’d occasionally seen them in parades and at fire department events. He began to reconsider his color choices.

Not exactly sure how to help him, the sales girl decided to just show him a few different options. She led him through aisles and aisle passing ginghams, florals, and psychedelic prints. She pointed out a variety of blue fabrics. She even sarcastically pointed out a royal blue velvet, thinking this would lighten the mood. The joke was lost on Johnny, and with each suggestion he seemed to only get more impatient.

“Well Sir, maybe I could take a look at your pattern and then I’ll be better able to help you.”

“Oh, I don’t have a pattern yet,” replied Johnny, and then asked sheepishly, “I haven’t really figured out that part yet. You don’t by any chance have one?”

“No, um,” she began to giggle, “I don’t think Butterick has a line of old fashioned fireman’s uniforms this year.” She felt bad for giggling. She didn’t mean to embarrass him. She simply didn’t know how to help, especially when he didn’t really know what he was looking for.

“I guess I’ve kind of put the cart before the horse, huh?”

“Maybe,” she said. “But don’t feel bad. I do the same thing when I get excited about a project.”

Johnny decided he needed to take a step back and do some research before spending all their money on the wrong kind of fabric. He found a pay phone and called up Clara Phillips, a curator at the county history museum whom he had met on a rescue about six months earlier. He felt a little bad asking her to help, especially after the mix up he’d had with some artifacts during the rescue. He was pleasantly surprised when Miss Phillips said she would be happy to help, and agreed to meet with him later that afternoon. She thought she could come up with some photos, and if they were lucky, maybe even a uniform that he could look at for ideas.

He had a little time to kill, so he decided to stop at his favorite record store, which was not far from the fabric store. Johnny always looked first at the _new arrivals_ section. There was always a strange mix of albums, and it was a bit like a treasure hunt. Of course there was a lot of junk like those free Christmas albums you got with a tire rotation, but sometimes he found something incredible. Such was the case on this particular day. He quickly flipped through the albums, not finding anything of interest until suddenly he came across the perfect new acquisition: A record by _The Firehouse Five Plus Two_. The cover of the album featured a Dixieland band dressed up like firemen of the past. The colorful red shirts and bright blue neckerchiefs instantly spoke to Johnny and he immediately knew these costumes were exactly what he was looking for. He loved the look of the oversized, high peaked helmets, the double rows of brass buttons on the shirts, and of course the suspenders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Firehouse Five Plus Two was a real Dixieland band made up of musicians who worked in the Disney animation department. I don't know much about this group, but when I saw some photos of them online recently, I knew they needed to be worked into an Emergency! fic. If there were another season of Emergency! I'd like to think that the next logical step for the Old Engine and the parade costumes, would have been forming a musical group like this, under Johnny's direction of course.


	4. Fact or Fiction

When Johnny met up with Clara Phillips at the county history museum, she extended her hand and greeted him warmly. She was happy to hear from John Gage. From what she knew of him, he seemed to be the perfect mix of tall, dark, handsome, and slightly dorky. Yes, Johnny Gage was this history nerd’s dreamboat.

“Great to see you, John. Look! The foot’s all healed. Good as new!” She held out her foot and wiggled her frumpy brown oxford with a scuffed up toe. Her personal fashion philosophy was “A girl’s gonna get dirty in this job. One minute you’re moving 20 heavy boxes of records for a researcher, the next you’re meeting with a donor and trying to sort out the treasures from the mouse nests.” No, Clara didn’t look like she knew anything about fashion, but Johnny hoped she knew more about fashion history.

“Sorry, Johnny,” she said. “We don’t have any firemen’s shirts. They’re just like underwear.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow, not knowing where she was going with this one.

“Uniforms are the kind of clothing you guys wear until they wear out, and have to be completely replaced. They’re just not usually thought of as heirlooms. They don't often get placed in a trunk and passed down to the next generation. When they're no longer of use, they get pitched.”

Johnny was disappointed of course, but handed her the Firehouse Five Plus Two album, showing her his latest piece of research.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “The Disney guys, right?”

Johnny nodded, and Clara continued, “Their outfits are almost a little too perfect, very Disney, but this bib style shirt is actually based on a classic fireman’s uniform. People today usually think of this style as classic cowboy clothing, but it started out as a fireman’s shirt.” Clara paused, “Sorry, I’m going on and on. This is probably much more than you wanted to know.”

Johnny shook his head, “No! This is great.”

“Let’s see. . . if I can remember my costume history. . . this style of shirt started as a fireman's uniform, but was also used in the military, and eventually became part of western history and mythology, and even pop culture. It makes quite a professional looking uniform, don’t you think? –with the two rows of buttons, but it was also a very hard working shirt. You could remove the bib and wash it when it got dirty, but it also provided an extra layer of protection.”

She went on to explain that during the Civil War, bib shirts became popular with soldiers on both sides of the conflict. When the war was over, they likely took them home with them. Many of these soldiers moved west, and these hard working shirts went west too. 

“They’re mainly associated with cowboy culture today because of John Wayne. This style of shirt was a favorite of his, and he wore it in several of his movies.”

Clara finally paused again, and took a breath. “Okay, John, enough of me talking at you, but if you want my honest opinion I think this classic fireman’s shirt is a little dated for your 1930s engine. If you’re concerned with historic authenticity, I’d suggest we try to find some photos from the period and see what firefighters were wearing here in L.A. County at that time.”

Johnny thought it was a pretty good idea, so Clara brought out a box of Los Angeles County Fire Department photos from the museum’s photo archive. Most were formal photos of companies, posing with their engines and fire houses. “A lot of them aren’t dated,” she explained. “but maybe we can find a crew posing with an engine that’s similar to yours.”

She made Johnny put on white cotton gloves to protect the photos from fingerprints, and they began going through the images, chatting about the different apparatuses and looking at the clothing. The photos were pretty disappointing in terms of uniform research. Most of the men were posing formally in front of the trucks, wearing their dress hats and wool coats. Johnny wasn’t interested in wearing a heavy wool coat on a hot summer day. Clara was right. Although there were a few photos of firemen wearing bibbed shirts and posing with horses in the 1910s, by the 1930s most of the men were wearing button up shirts, similar to the military shirts of the period. Johnny wasn’t very excited about the look of the later uniforms.

“I guess what you need to decide is if you are going for historic authenticity or more of an iconic firefighter costume.”

“Maybe we can just lie and say the engine is a 1925 model?” suggested Johnny (partly) in jest.

“And that you’re part of a very poor volunteer fire department that can’t afford new uniforms,” Clara added with a giggle.

After looking at the photos, Clara brought out a few fire helmets for Johnny to examine. He was mostly interested in the older leather style, with high crowns, and long rear brims. Some had metal eagle heads on top that helped secure the front piece, which identified the fireman’s station or company. He also learned about the aluminum helmets that Los Angeles County firemen wore in the early part of the 20th century. Clara wasn’t about to let Johnny borrow a helmet, though, explaining that once they entered the museum collection they could no longer be used. Preservation was a top priority.

“Doesn’t your department have a historian?” Clara asked. “Talk to the old guys. Someone will have a suggestion, and if you get lucky, maybe someone will have a helmet packed away in a trunk in their garage. Helmets are the kind of things people DO save and pass down to their kids. They aren’t as rare as the shirts. I’m sure you can come up with a couple of helmets somewhere.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Johnny made a bee line for the fabric store. Although the bib shirt was probably not authentic to the period of their Old Engine, he was still stuck on the idea of wearing this style. He wanted to wear something colorful and iconic. Something that would make parade goers say, “Now that’s a fireman!” He decided he would just have to craft a clever explanation to justify it to Roy, and EVERYONE else if questioned.

The same sales girl was still working the counter and she smiled when she saw Johnny. “Back again?” she asked.

“Yep,” he said holding up the record album for her to see. “I’m gonna to make costumes like this. Can you help?”

“Oh, I see,” she said. They’re kind of look like Monkees shirts.”

“Monkeys?”

“Yeah, you know, _Pleasant Valley Sunday_ , _Last Train to Clarksville_ , THE Monkees.

“Oh, those Monkees.” Johnny really didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Yeah, they wore matching shirts that were kind of like this, with a placket and double rows of buttons down the front. So you gonna play instruments too? Don’t tell me! I bet you play. . . maracas?”

Johnny was slightly offended, thinking if he were to play anything it would be lead guitar. “No, we aren’t playing music. I’ll be too busy driving the engine.”

Johnny asked if the store carried patterns for the bib-style shirt. They didn’t, but the sales girl thought it wouldn’t be too hard to alter a pattern or find someone to make the shirts for him. She suggested checking the bulletin board near the entrance for a few names of seamstresses.

“So, are you sticking with blue or going with red now?” she asked.

After seeing the album cover and learning more about the history of the shirts in the fire service, Johnny decided red would be more classic and eye catching. It would also match the engine. With a little guidance, he selected a bright red cotton flannel. Brass buttons were a little out of his price range, so he went with basic black.

“I’m sure no one will look that closely,” the sales girl said. “If someone is going to call you out on the accuracy of your buttons, they need to get a new hobby.”

Johnny agreed in theory, but she didn’t know Craig Brice. He just hoped the judges were not as persnickety.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few inconsistencies in the Emergency! episodes featuring the Old Engine. When Roy and Johnny purchase the engine, they say it's a 1932 Dennis, but in "The Old Engine Cram" Mr. Green is looking for a 1925 Paige, and Johnny says that's just what they have. In "The Parade" Roy mentions the 50-year old transmission. 
> 
> The costumes Roy and Johnny wear in "The Parade" although based on traditional firemen's shirts with bibs, seem more of a Hollywood generalization rather than an authentic reproduction of what a fireman would have been wearing in 1932 or 1925. I attempted to look through some historic photos of firefighters in Los Angeles and nearby Long Beach, and did find a few photos of firemen wearing shirts with bibs in the 1910s. Post World War I, it seems most were wearing an updated version of the uniform. If you are interested, these two websites are incredible (as Johnny would say): http://lafire.com/ and http://cdm16855.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/search/collection/LBFiremen
> 
> If anyone has any additional information they would like to point me toward regarding firefighting uniforms in the 1920s and 1930s, please let me know. I'd love to know more.
> 
> The Monkees sometimes wore matching eight button shirts that are said to have been inspired by John Wayne’s bib shirt in Stagecoach. I thought it would be fun to throw that in here too.
> 
> Update: I've also consulted Sears catalogs from 1900 and1909. Sears advertised these bib style shirts as Fireman's or Teamster's shirts. I'm curious to know if these were still available from Sears in the 1920s and 1930s. I'll continue to do some research.


	5. Pattern Making: Twister for Twits

“Will you just lay down on the newspaper, Roy? I need to outline you!”

Hiring a seamstress was out of Johnny’s price range, but Johnny didn’t know anything about making a pattern. He thought he would first get an outline of Roy’s upper body on newspaper. It was a start anyway, but Roy wasn’t being very accommodating.

“If you get marker on my uniform shirt you are paying for a new one.”

“Stop squirming then!”

“Well, quit tickling my armpit!”

Johnny briefly winced, and then tried to cover by smiling a little too big. He hoped Roy wouldn’t notice the black ink on his shirt until after their shift ended.

“Move your arms out a little, Roy. I need to draw AROUND your arms.”

“I just don’t understand how this is supposed to work, Johnny. It’s not like I’m a paper doll. People are three-dimensional!”

“Whatcha playing?” Cap asked as he walked into the kitchen. “Twister for Twits?”

“Yeah,” said Roy sarcastically. “First spin, my neck got movie times. Second turn, my ass got obituaries.” Roy scrambled back up to his feet. “Actually, Cap, we’re just trying to make some costumes for the parade, but I don’t think Johnny’s pattern method is gonna work.”

Johnny sneered. “Well, I don’t know where else to start. Maybe. . . Does Joanne have--”

“Oh, no. You are not asking Joanne for anything else!” Joanne had already provided them with a sewing machine, thread, and scissors. “If you cut paper with these things, your dead!” She’d threatened Roy.

Johnny sighed, but then quickly perked up and raced out of the room. When he returned, he was holding Roy’s shirt and one of his own. “I’ve got it, Roy! What we do is take apart our street clothes, and use them as patterns.”

Johnny did a little twirl and sat down on the couch. He smiled smugly, pleased that he had come up with such an obviously brilliant idea.

“I don’t know” said Roy. “Joanne’s gonna be pretty mad if you ruin this shirt. Plus, what do we wear home tonight?”

“Roy, where’s your faith? By tonight I’ll have the costumes made and I’ll remake our other shirts too.”

Johnny was overly optimistic, often underestimating the time it took to do different tasks, especially those he was unfamiliar with. He also believed the best solution to a problem was physically taking it apart. Roy rolled his eyes. Johnny just didn’t have the best track record for getting things put back together.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Johnny hadn’t accounted for firefighting and paramedics in his timeline. They had six runs that day, and each time they returned to the station, the shirt situation got worse. Johnny poked his fingers repeatedly with straight pins and needed Roy’s assistance with the Band-Aids. It was a good thing Johnny had chosen red fabric. The color would disguise all the bloodstains. Roy was sometimes perplexed by Johnny’s neediness. When they were on a run, Johnny was just as competent as anyone else in the department. He was the best paramedic he knew. Off the clock, Johnny sometimes acted immature and unsure of himself. Joanne had a theory, which helped Roy be more tolerant whenever he paused to remember it. Johnny didn’t have any family nearby. He didn’t have a wife, partner, or even a roommate to talk things through with at the end of the day. But Johnny had Roy. “You’re the best listener I know,” said Joanne. “You are kind and caring and patient. YOU are Johnny’s family. He just has a little growing up to do and needs a little reassurance sometimes.” Roy tried to remember this as he wrapped another bandage around another one of Johnny’s fingers. He really didn’t mind doing it anyway.

Roy tried his best not lose his patience when Johnny asked for his assistance using the sewing machine. Apparently, it was not as easy as he thought it would be. The machine kept coming unthreaded, and even trying to sew a straight line wasn’t as easy as he had imagined. Johnny ordered Chet, Mike and Marco out of the room. He needed privacy to concentrate. “Not you, Roy!” he called out as Roy tried to make his escape. “You can stay.”

At the end of the day Roy and Johnny left the station in their uniform shirts, and Johnny returned to the fabric store for more red fabric. Later that night, Roy told Joanne about all the carnage, yards of blood red flannel and Johnny’s bloody fingers.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” asked Joanne when he finished the story.

“Ask you what?” said Roy sheepishly.

“To help you make the shirts?”

“You know Johnny,” Roy replied. “He gets an idea in his head and you can’t stop him. I have to work with him all day, so I put up with it. It’s not fair to bring you into the craziness.”

“I know, but I’ve got to live with you too,” she said kissing him on the cheek. “The more aggravated he gets, the more aggravated you get, and then it’s no fun for me either. Just let me help. You don’t like to admit it, but this project has been good for you too, Roy.”

Roy gave her a **_You’ve got to be kidding!_** look.

“I don’t mean the sewing project, I mean the engine project. You’ve loved restoring the engine. I see how it makes you light up when you talk about it. Johnny’s good for you, Roy. Sure, sometimes he doesn’t think everything through. He’s a dreamer. But it’s good to have another person pushing you just a bit to dream big sometimes.”

Roy took Joanne’s chin in his hand and tenderly kissed her. He decided now was not the time to tell her about Johnny’s plan to have them spend every waking minute between now and the parade working on the costumes and engine. Even Joanne DeSoto had a breaking point.


	6. But Blue Goes With Your Eyes, Damn It!

Roy was a little bit nervous to share the news with Johnny. Would he be offended that Joanne had offered to make the shirts for them? He didn’t want Johnny to think he didn’t have confidence in him, but frankly Roy didn’t have confidence in Johnny’s sewing ability. No, not at all.

Johnny was thrilled when Roy told him the news. He felt as if a great weight had been lifted off of him, and was happy to shift gears and focus on the engine and the other smaller details of the costumes.

“So, we’ll have to pick up some cloth for the neckerchiefs,” said Johnny. "Bright blue, I think."

Roy wasn't in agreement. “Yeah, I was thinking yellow would look nice."

“Yellow? Yuck!” retorted Johnny. “What are you thinking, Roy? The Fire House Five Plus Two wear blue kerchiefs.”

“Yeah, but I still think yellow would look better,” Roy quickly responded.

Johnny wasn’t buying it. “Yellow is the color of jaundice. Yellow is not the color of fireman’s clothing.”

“It is if you’re from Pasadena,” Chet interjected.

“Shut up, Chet,” Johnny snapped. “No one asked you.”

Roy wasn’t ready to back down. He really did like yellow and they were forced to wear blue every day. No, he wasn’t going to back down on this one.

Johnny wasn’t ready to back down either, “But blue goes with your eyes, damn it! Cap, tell Roy that blue goes with his eyes.”

“Roy,” Cap said in a patronizing tone. “Blue goes with your eyes.”

Chet began to snicker, which made Johnny even madder, but before the tiff could escalate any further they were toned out to an apartment fire.

When they returned to the station, hungry and tired, Johnny poured himself a glass of milk and another glass for Roy. Roy wasn’t really in the mood for milk, but he knew it was a thoughtful gesture in Johnny’s mind, and he accepted it without argument.

“Fine,” said Johnny, after taking a huge gulp.

“Fine what?”

“Fine, we can wear yellow neckerchiefs." He took another huge gulp of milk, and grabbed half a dozen cookies from the glass cookie jar on the counter.  "But can I pick out the nicknames?”

“Nicknames?” asked Roy. “I really think you have bigger fish to fry.”

Johnny offered Roy a cookie,  but before Roy had a chance to grab it, he snatched it back and took a big bite. “What fish?” asked Johnny with his mouth full.

“The helmets, for one. Helmets are the most important accessory of all. Where are we gonna get antique helmets?”

“Oh, that fish.” Johnny laughed nervously, crumbs spilling onto his shirt. “I have, no idea.”


	7. Nicknames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys ponder nicknames and assless chaps. There's also an improbable explanation of how the Old Engine evolved from a 1932 Dennis to a 1925 Paige.

It was becoming more difficult to work on the Old Engine and the final details of the costumes. The county’s annual hydrant checks were underway and Roy and Johnny were scheduled to help with the testing and confirm hydrant locations whenever they were not on a run.

Johnny approached the next hydrant with his wrench extended, like a knight wielding a sword. “Charlie, I challenge thee to a duel! My hydrant wrench against your monkey wrench!”

“I wouldn’t joke about that if I were you,” Roy warned. “You never know when Charlie’s gonna be behind you, and I’m sure he’d accept the challenge. Not that **you** would be a challenge for Charlie.”

Johnny snickered. “Yeah, that’s one guy who probably already has a gangster nickname.”

“Nicknames? Are we back on that again?” Roy removed the cap from the hydrant and inspected the O-ring. “I really don’t want to wear a nametag with a goofy 1930s nickname. They probably didn’t even wear nametags in the 30s.”

Johnny didn’t answer at first. He added some oil to the hydrant’s bonnet and oiled the threads on the cap. “Well. . . actually Roy. . . That’s another thing I’ve been meaning to talk with you about.”

As they continued checking over the hydrant, Johnny tried his best to explain the history of firemen’s fashion, and his decision to construct their costumes in the iconic 19th century style. He argued that the red bib shirts and leather helmets would be colorful and dramatic, perfect for a parade. They would be a salute to the early history of the profession and honor the tradition and service of the fireman who came before them. When he concluded, he smiled smugly, figuring he’d done a pretty decent job of making his case. Then he added, “If anyone questions the costumes, let’s just tell ’em that the engine’s a little older than a ’32. If we take off a few years and say it’s a . . . 1925, then our costumes won’t look so out of place. Maybe we can say that we’re from a very poor volunteer fire department.”

“But don’t you think the judges will know that it’s not a 1925 Dennis?” Roy asked.

“I’m not talking about the judges, Roy. The judges probably won’t care about the costumes anyway. It’s just the other guys, like Brice, and the other nuts who are really into uniform history. It will be a lot easier to explain our costumes if we say that the engine is from an earlier period.”

Roy didn’t really follow Johnny’s logic, and asked how a poor volunteer fire department that couldn’t afford new uniforms could afford a new engine.

Johnny opened up the hydrant allowing the water to blast onto the street. “Pressure looks good,” he said, making a note on the checklist. After shutting it down, Johnny continued: “I don’t know, Roy. . . maybe we say that our volunteer department is just really into tradition. They keep the antiquated uniforms as a memorial to their fallen comrades. . . I don’t know. . . I just REALLY want to wear the older style uniforms!”

In reality Roy didn’t really care what style of costumes they wore. If it was that important to Johnny, he’d do it, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. He did have one suggestion, however, “If we’re making up things, maybe we should call the engine a 1925 Paige.”

“Why?”

“Because this whole situation is a ridiculous **p** retense created by Johnny **GAGE**.”

It was Johnny’s turn to roll is eyes. He took out his green pen, chewed on it for a minute and made some notes on their hydrant checklist. As they jumped in the squad to move on to the next hydrant, he suddenly pointed the green pen at Roy and enthusiastically ordered, “Now, let’s talk nicknames!”

“Why on earth do we need nicknames?” Roy squawked as he pulled away from the curb.

“Roy! Come on! It will just be fun.” Johnny wrinkled up his nose, thinking of the perfect nickname for Roy. “How about Huey?”

“Uh, no.”

“Dewey?”

“You’d better not say Louie.”

Johnny laughed, and then snorted at his own joke, “I was hoping you would fall for one of those.”

“Were you planning on recruited Chet to be the third fire duck?”

“Well, how about gangster nicknames then? That would be fun.”

“Were there many gangsters in the county fire department back then? Didn’t they have other things to do?”

Johnny didn’t understand Roy’s objection to the idea. “Roy! Didn’t you ever want to be called _Knuckles_ or _The Butcher_?”

“No.”

“How about Books? You like to read, don’t you? Plus, it’ll make you sound like you’re a bookie or something tough like that.”

“Fine, you can call me Books, and I’ll call you. . . um. . . THE MILKMAN! Yeah, that’s it! You will be Johnny “The Milkman” Gage.”

As Roy pulled up to the next hydrant, Johnny jumped out and slammed his door in disgust. “Fine. You win, Roy. No nicknames.”

 

**\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Joanne dove into the costume project and completed the shirts and neckerchiefs a week ahead of schedule. She dropped them off at the station one afternoon, shortly after she finished them, hoping the guys would try on the shirts. Roy and Johnny were out on a run at the time, so she left them with Captain Stanley. She was 98% sure Roy’s would fit properly since she’d had him try it on for several fittings during the construction. She wasn’t so sure about Johnny’s, so she left instructions for them to call her if it needed any alterations.

When they got back from the run, Cap handed off the shirts and Johnny decided they should do a full dress rehearsal with suspenders and neckerchiefs. Well, it would have been a full rehearsal if Johnny had been able to find helmets. The helmets were becoming a bit of a sore subject. Johnny had even tried his charm with Clara Phillips at the county history museum, but she basically told him he would need to cut off his own head and place it in an exhibit vitrine before she would let him try on a helmet from the museum’s collection.

Joanne had done a stellar job on the shirts, altering the style just slightly from those worn by the _Firehouse Five Plus Two._ In the end, the black buttons had been a good choice, matching the black suspenders Johnny had purchased at a thrift store. Johnny had to admit that Roy was right about yellow. The yellow neckerchiefs were the perfect compliment.

Roy hadn’t expressed much concern about the authenticity of the costumes, but as the event grew closer, he seemed to be getting more nervous. As they began trying on the shirts, he suddenly asked Johnny, “What about pants and shoes? Are we just focusing above the belt?”

“Seriously Roy? I’m still trying to find helmets! There’s no way I can locate pants and shoes. Think of it this way. We’ll be sittin’ in the engine the whole time. It’s not like we’re gonna get out of the squad and do some sort of firemen’s soft shoe.” Johnny paused for a moment as if he was actually considering adding a dance performance to their agenda. Roy was immediately terrified.

Johnny continued, “It’s like with news anchors. Those guys are probably naked below the belt most of the time. No one will be able to see us from the waist down anyway.”

_Well, not exactly_ , thought Roy. Again, Johnny was thinking only in two dimensions, forgetting that they would be visible from all sides, and the Old Engine didn’t have any side doors. If they were pants-less, the crowd would certainly get a big show.

Chet, who had joined them in the locker room, was thoroughly enjoying the bickering. He couldn’t resist egging Johnny on. “In that case, John, you guys should dress for comfort. It will probably be hot, right? Why don’t you wear swim trunks, or maybe ass-less chaps.”

Johnny glared at Chet, and looked for something to throw at him. “Damn it, Chet! Don’t you have someone else to annoy?”


	8. Hook, Line, and Stoker

Over the last year and a half Roy and Johnny had spent many days off in Station 51’s parking lot, doing their best to avoid C-Shift. The arrival of C-Shift meant the arrival of Captain Hookrader, and it was no secret that Captain Hook was irritated about the Old Engine being parked at the station.

At first Captain Hook complained that it was a rusty piece of junk and an eye sore, reflecting poorly on the department. Roy and Johnny did their best to cover it with a tarp and keep the area tidy, but that wasn’t enough for Captain Hook. He complained to Captain Stanley that firemen shouldn’t be working on personal projects at the station, especially on their own shift. There was always something else they could be doing: cleaning, drills, checking hydrants, inspections. . . Fixing up antique engines was not part of the job. Roy and Johnny became more cautious, taking care to avoid Captain Hookrader, but as the parade drew nearer, they needed to spend more and more time at the station. Their paths eventually crossed.

It was starting to get dark one evening, about a week before the parade, and they were packing up for the day, collecting tools, and preparing to cover her up with a tarp. Captain Hookrader drove into the lot, and pulled into a spot next to the Old Engine. Roy and Johnny both quietly groaned and put cleanup efforts into high gear.

“Hey, Cap,” said Roy, forcing himself to be friendly.

Hookrader didn’t return the pleasantries. No, he didn’t show any emotion whatsoever. He looked at the engine and said, “You’ve got some grease on the hood.”

“Yeah, thanks Cap,” said Johnny, wiping the grease spot with a rag.

“I hear you boys entered her in the parade,” said Hookrader.

Johnny gulped. He imagined Hookrader hated parades. Probably thought those kinds of activities were a waste of time and resources.

“Yeah, Cap. We’ll get her in ship-shape by then. We’ll make Station 51 proud.”

“What are you doing about costumes?” Hookrader asked.

Johnny wasn’t sure how to respond. Hookrader would likely think costumes were silly and childish. He stammered a bit and told him they were wearing classic fireman’s shirts and suspenders, a nod to the great tradition of the profession.

“What about the helmets?” Hookrader asked. “You’d better have the helmets or you’ll look like movie cowboys.”

Johnny nodded. “We’re working on it, Cap. Authentic leather helmets are hard to come up with.”

Hookrader nodded, and walked away, leaving two very relieved paramedics.

The next day, Johnny called out to the Los Angeles County Headquarters Building in a last attempt to locate period appropriate helmets. He knew there were displays in the building that included historic photos and memorabilia. He figured there must be some helmets on display out there too.

The unofficial historian of the department wasn’t much help. “Johnny, if I start loaning out helmets, every guy is gonna want to borrow one for a Halloween costume, or to use as a prop in his kid’s school play, or to wear to the Firemen’s Olympics. . . ” Thankfully, the historian had an idea. “There are some guys out there that collect a lot of firefighting memorabilia, John. Call some of those guys, I’m sure someone will lend or sell you a couple of helmets.”

“You got any names for me?” Johnny asked.

“Sure, he said. In fact, one of the biggest collectors is a guy you work with, Captain Hookrader.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

“Mike, you’re our only hope!” Johnny pleaded with Mike Stoker.

Stoker wasn’t buying it. How was he supposed to get Captain Hookrader to sell or loan him two helmets?

“He likes you, Mike. Hell, everyone likes you.”

It was true. If someone were to conjure up the perfect engineer, he would be just like Mike Stoker: tall, handsome, capable of driving the engine through or around any terrain or tight situation, and an all-around likable guy. Every captain in the battalion wanted Stoker for his engineer.

“Isn’t this more Chet’s area of expertise?” Mike asked, thinking Chet would be more qualified for manipulation.

“Really, Mike, you’re the only one that can do this. Hookrader will cut Chet off after three words. So, here’s what you gotta do--”

Johnny outlined his scheme: As A-Shift ended and Hookrader came on duty, Mike would stay behind and ask if he had a few minutes to give him some advice. Mike would tell him that he was considering taking the Captain's exam this year and could use some professional advice from another Captain. Hookrader, Johnny theorized, would be flattered that Stoker was coming to him instead of Captain Stanley.

Mike wasn’t so sure. “Johnny, I’m not that good of a talker. What if I get too nervous and don’t know what to say?”

“Just ask him about himself: How old he was when he became a Captain, what he likes best about the job, if he ever misses being and engineer. Stuff like that, Mike. Then, just casually give him a line about admiring his leadership style to butter him up. Next, ask him if he's going to the convention and parade. Mention that you’re excited about it since we're are entering the engine. Tell him that you’re helping us track down helmets and then just casually ask if he knows where you could find a couple of ’em.”

“All this helmet stuff doesn’t seem like the easiest thing to just throw into a conversation about the Captain's exam, Johnny.”

“Come on, Stoker! I know you can do it.”

Stoker shrugged. Johnny could feel he was losing him.

“How about twenty bucks?”

“Fine," Stoker said with a sigh. "I’ll do it.” He grabbed the $20 from Johnny. Then, realizing what he’d agreed to do, he immediately turned pale and then slightly green.


	9. Divide and Conquer

Mike Stoker plunked a cardboard box down on the kitchen table and said, “You owe me another twenty bucks, Gage.”

Johnny strode over to the table, grinning. “You got ’em? You really got us some helmets?”

“Sort of,” Stoker responded.

Yes, Mike Stoker was a man of few words. With a little encouragement from a very impatient Johnny Gage, Mike began to elaborate upon the story of how he’d met with Captain Hookrader and acquired a box of helmet parts. No, they weren’t complete helmets, but it was a start.

Stoker had been nervous about Johnny’s scheme, so his conversation with Hookrader about the Captain’s exam hadn’t gone very far. Stoker was usually a very straightforward guy and was more than a little worried about pissing-off the irritable captain. Beating around the bush wasn’t his style, so he just blurted out, “Roy and Johnny need some antique helmets for the parade. Can I buy a couple from you?” Stoker was way too nervous to suggest a loan.

If Stoker hadn’t been wiping the sweat from his brow, he would have seen Captain Hookrader’s lips curl slightly into a smile. It was gone in a flash, and Hookrader responded, “I’ve been waiting for one of you to ask me about that. So you drew the short straw, Stoker?”

Hookrader was pretty possessive of his collection of firefighting memorabilia, but had some spare parts he was willing to let go. An agreement was made and Mike stopped by Hookrader’s house to collect the goods. There were a couple of helmet bodies that were in poor condition, two tarnished eagles, and two severely corroded front pieces. Hookrader confided in Mike that Brice had come to see him as well, but “hell would freeze over” before Hookrader helped out 16s. It seems that Captain Thomas, over at 16s was Hookrader’s nemesis. “You make sure those boys represent Station 51 well,” he’d ordered Stoker. Mike simply nodded, handed Hookrader twenty bucks, and abruptly turned and walked back to his truck before Hookrader could change his mind.                           

*******

Johnny let out a whoop in delight. They could work with this stuff. The helmets needed a little patching and paint, and they needed to polish the eagles. If the front pieces couldn’t be salvaged they could use them as patterns for new ones. He knew they could do it. After all, they still had two days until the parade and things were looking good with the Old Engine. He had come in on his day off and checked off almost everything on the _To-Do_ list.

Later that day, Roy and Johnny decided to crank up the engine and see how she was running, but they were toned out on a call of a possible heart attack and then responded to a traffic accident involving the same victim. When they returned to the station, Cap and all the guys joined them in the parking lot to watch them crank her up.  That’s when something went seriously wrong. Johnny was driving when she just sputtered and died. Died right there in the parking lot. The subsequent examination didn’t look good. Something was wrong with a gear.

Johnny and Roy were devastated. Where were they going to get a gear for a nearly 50-year-old planetary transmission in two days? They went into crisis mode, checking with every junk yard in L.A. County, and then made calls to various leads across the county. Costumes were no longer part of the equation at all. Their focus was on getting a gear for the transmission.

Cap and the guys felt bad. Even Chet, who had been telling Johnny to “Get a horse,” felt bad. He knew how much work they’d put into the engine and how they would have represented 51s well. Cap pulled the boys together while Johnny and Roy were out on a run. He had an idea.

“I know it’s unlikely they’re gonna get her fixed up in time for the parade, but you never know. What do ya say we band together and fix up those helmets? You know, just in case.”

Marco and Mike immediately agreed. Although Chet pretended to hate the idea, he couldn’t keep up the charade for long, and volunteered to polish up the eagles. “You know I’m and exert at polishing, Cap.”

“Yeah, but the question is polishing what?” Cap added with a wink.

Marco and Mike agreed to work together on the front pieces. Marco, who enjoyed metalworking as a hobby, knew they could use the deteriorated pieces as patterns for new ones. Mike would paint the lettering and all the details. That left Cap to patch and repaint the helmet bodies. With a little teamwork, they would get the job done.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the end, it was worth all the dimes Roy and Johnny dropped into the pay phone attempting to track down a replacement gear for the transmission. By the morning of the parade, they had not one, but **four** gears, including one from an abandoned hearse in Missouri. After the gear was installed, they had just minutes to change into their costumes and head to the parade route.

“What’s the point?” asked Chet. “Red shirts and neckerchiefs? That’s all you got?”

“We’ve got suspenders too!” Johnny retorted defensively.

Cap, Marco, and Mike joined them in the locker room, fully prepared to contribute to Chet’s ribbing.

“The kids are going to wonder why a couple of cowboys are driving a firetruck,” said Cap, with a completely deadpan expression.

“Or squirrels,” Marco added. “Did you ever notice how all the crooks in Adam-12 wear kerchiefs?”

Chet was loving all the razzing. “Yeah, I have noticed that.  John, you really should have tried a little harder to get those helmets put together.”

“Look, Chet,” said Johnny. Pausing briefly from dressing to stick his finger in Chet’s face. “We really don’t have time for this. We’ve gotta be at the Parade route in 30 minutes!”

Chet began to smirk, and Cap made a quick dash around the corner, returning with two refurbished helmets. Grins spread across Roy and Johnny’s faces, and for a moment, Johnny was completely speechless.

“But—How did you?” Johnny stammered.

“We couldn’t let you out there looking like twits, could we?” Cap said with a smile.

Johnny let out a little whoop and there were handshakes all around.

“Ya wanna watch us crank her up?” Johnny asked as he tightened the strap on his helmet?

“I think we’ve wasted enough time today,” said Cap. “We’ve got real work to do.”

“Ya,” Chet added. “I’d rather watch paint dry than watch you bozos crank up that engine again.”

“Suit yourselves,” said Roy with a smile. Knowing full-well they were only joking. Yes, pranks and humor were a big part of the camaraderie at Station 51. These guys were more than coworkers. They were almost family. In this family razzing and pranks were the equivalent of the hugs and kisses he gave his loved ones at home. Yes, humor was sometimes used as a defense when things got too serious, _thank yous_ weren’t enough, and _I love you guys_ just didn’t seem like the right thing to say to your coworkers.

Roy and Johnny sprinted to the engine. It took Johnny four cranks before she started up.  Roy realized it was a good thing the guys hadn’t joined them in the parking lot. Chet would have given them a lot of grief about Johnny yelling at him to _choke it._

As they rounded the corner of the lot, Cap, Mike, Marco and Chet made their way out to the side yard. The men began to clap and cheer, yelling words of encouragement. Chet waved his arms, cheering as much as anyone else. Roy honked the horn, Johnny rang the bell, and they both whooped and hollered. Had anyone looked directly into their eyes, they would have likely seen them both looking a little misty. Filled with a sense of relief, a sense of accomplishment, and a sense of pride in receiving so much support from their fellow firefighters, they both felt like the luckiest guys in the world.

 


	10. The Firehouse Five Plus One

Of course luck doesn’t last forever, and in Roy and Johnny’s case, it was only minutes into their drive when they saw smoke coming from an apartment. Instinctively, they decided to respond. That’s when their luck turned bad. Not only did they miss the parade, but the Old Engine was extensively damaged when the brick façade of the building crumbled, crashing down on the engine. They were both devastated, of course. Roy told Johnny it was okay if he cried. But Johnny was too tired to cry. He was tired, disappointed, and even a little angry. To add fuel to the fire, they learned that a restored fire chief’s Model T with a chromed engine had won first prize. Johnny thought this was disgusting, but took some solace in the fact that Brice and Station 16 hadn’t won either.

When Dwyer and Fitzpatrick returned from their run, Roy and Johnny learned that Brice’s attention to historic accuracy hadn’t been to his advantage. His insistence that the men of 16s wear wool uniform jackets in the heat (while pulling a hose cart) hadn’t been well thought out. A few blocks into the parade route, a couple of the men quit when Brice told them they could absolutely not remove their jackets. This left Brice with an older crew of retirees from 16s that had been recruited to help pull the cart. Several men became overheated and dehydrated, needing to be treated at Rampart.  

The news of 16s equally pathetic showing at the parade made Roy and Johnny feel slightly better. Of course they felt horrible for their fellow comrades, who could have been seriously injured. They wouldn’t wish harm on anyone, but it made them think. Undoubtedly, Brice would make a new game plan and try again for next year. He was known to be persistent.  They could try again too. 

After inventorying the damage, Roy and Johnny returned to the kitchen, and poured themselves cups of coffee. Johnny tried to be optimistic.  “At least the bell still works. And we’ve got three extra gears for the transmission.”

“Why don’t you just give it up, Gage?” Chet squawked, ready to start another playful round of bickering.

“Why don’t you transfer to 16s, Kelly. Actually. . . that’s not a bad idea. We could use a spy over there.”

“Oh no!” said Chet. “I’m not doing your dirty work. . . Unless—How much was it that you paid Stoker for buttering up old Captain Hook? Twenty bucks, right? Triple it, and we just might have a deal.”

Roy suddenly jumped in. “I don’t think so! I know how this goes. You two make a deal, and suddenly I’m obligated to pay for half of it.”

Johnny picked up a powdered sugar doughnut and took a huge bite. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said, as powdered sugar wafted from his mouth. “How about you join us in the parade next year? Hell, how about the six of us all ride on the engine?”

Chet perked up. Although he liked to tease Roy and Johnny, he envied their friendship in many ways and wished they would include him more. “We get to wear costumes too?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Johnny. “How hard can it be to make four more?”

There was a collective groan. Johnny made his way to the refrigerator for a glass of milk. He took another bite of the doughnut, and continued, not pausing to chew or swallow.

“So, first we get the costumes. Stoker, you talk with Hookrader. Roy, you talk with Joanne.”

Roy rolled his eyes. Stoker put his head down on the table and covered his ears with his hands.

“I’ve also been thinking,” Johnny continued. “What we really need is a hook. Almost everyone will have costumes. I think we need instruments. We can learn to play one of the Firehouse Five Plus Two’s songs. Cap, do you think you can learn to play the banjo? Chet, you play the drums, right?” Johnny didn’t stop for responses. He was in a zone. He continued talking and eating, creating clouds of powdered sugar. He had that faraway dreamy look in his eyes again. He didn’t even notice as everyone else began slinking out of the room. Even Roy slowly backed out of the kitchen and into the bay, pretending to be worried, but smiling just a little when no one was looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everything who stuck with me and read to the end of this little fic. Fictional writing is new to me, but I've had a lot of fun putting some of my daydreams onto paper (or computer as it may be), and imagining a few ridiculous Johnny "big ideas." I hope I did a little bit of justice to these characters, showing the camaraderie, loyalty, and optimism I so love about them.


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